Black Rose.
The fragile black rose,
Alone in the street,
Frightened to move,
But brought to its feet,
By a mystical mind,
Hidden in shadows,
Reluctant to stir,
In the mist of an arrow.
Taking her petal,
By his right hand,
Feeling its texture,
A rough contraband,
An emotion so high,
His hand did run deep,
Relating his fear,
Of never to sleep.
By its thorn it did prick,
Poising syrup for him to sip,
Goodbye to the stranger,
The clock has struck twelve,
Into the shadows,
It did delve.
2007-10-03
22:23:01
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7 answers
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asked by
kissaled
5
in
Poetry